


Cornucopia

by FyrMaiden



Category: Glee
Genre: Food Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 03:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7026592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyrMaiden/pseuds/FyrMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine tempts Kurt home with flirty texts and the promise of baked goods...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cornucopia

Blaine texts him just as he leaves the planning meeting he's been in all day. 'Made something for you,' he says, and then, 'Think you'll enjoy stuffing it in your mouth.' And then, because Blaine is almost as subtle as driving at speed into a wall, a small purple devil. 

Cookies, Kurt thinks. Like he'd promised when they were kids and didn't have kids and jobs and mortgage payments to worry about. When the latest drama would be something to do with Rachel and Glee Club. 

To be fair, Rachel is still a leading cause of drama. 

But Blaine - Blaine's at home with their daughter whilst Kurt's in workshop. He's writing, and when he's not writing, he's talking to fans on twitter (Kurt's told him not to, and had been ignored over and over; Blaine enjoys the attention, and is better at muting the things he doesn't want to see) and recently, he's decided he wants to try baking. 

Kurt's tired, but he knows his body can be tempted by cookies...

*

He doesn't even get through the door before he knows it's not cookies. Cookies have a distinct smell, like sugar and Blaine's inevitable cinnamon. Kurt hangs up his coat, and proceeds slowly into the kitchen. 

"Blaine?" he calls, and gets no response. The oven is cool when he touches it, and he frowns at it, as if the oven itself lied to him. 

He pulls open the fridge instead, and grabs blindly for the juice in the door, drinks directly from the bottle and almost drops it when Blaine tuts at him from the other side of the breakfast bar. 

"You'll teach our daughter terrible habits," he says, and Kurt rolls his eyes. 

"She's neither awake nor here," he says, "And besides. I'm not the one who promised cookies."

Blaine frowns. "I didn't prom- Oh! No." His face lights up, his smile spreading wide across it. "Open the door!"

Kurt frowns, but does as he's bid, and then wonders how he could be so blind. 

Sitting in the middle of a specially cleared shelf is a plate of perfect cream filled eclairs. 

Blaine's right, he thinks. He's going to enjoy shoving every last inch into his mouth, and maybe Blaine's as well. He's looking forward to the way Blaine looks at him before he lets him lick cream from his fingers and his chin, and from the depths of his mouth. 

He slides the plate from the shelf and slips past Blaine into their sitting room, and makes space for Blaine to curl up beside him. 

*

It's sticky and messy and Kurt's certain it's been entirely too long since it's been like this for them. Blaine has cream in his hair and his eyelashes, and Kurt's got pastry on the inside of his shirt. There's sugar all over his fingers, and the thumping aching bruise of Blaine's mouth on his throat, and he's full of so much laughter that he can't breathe. 

Blaine moves languidly beside him, and the empty plate slides to the floor with a clatter that's muted by an overpriced rug. He slips into Kurt's space and runs his dirty fingers through Kurt's hair and down his nose, kisses his jaw and his shoulder and pulls back to stare at the side of Kurt's face. 

"So," he says, and Kurt turns his head to look at him. "Horn of plenty next week?"

Kurt can't answer for laughing.


End file.
